Five times the Doctor tried
by melanthe lilac
Summary: Five times the Doctor tried to tell Jack something important, and the one time he let him go. Angst, with small fluffy undertones. A little Jack/Nine, mostly Jack/Ten


Warning: light slash ahead, though nothing even remotely explicit.

Author's Notes: a 5 times thing. it may be a bit melodramatic at times, but please bear with me. i, personally, kinda like it. so, without further ado...

-

**Five times the Doctor tried to tell Jack something important**  
(and the one time he let him go)

-

1.

He was leaving. The Doctor would probably never see him again. See either of them again. Heck, he'd probably die today, as well. For good, this time. And, before he did, there was something he needed to say, needed Jack to know.

"Jack, I..."

and that's when Jack looked at him, and that dark gaze stopped him. Filled with so much pain, so much love, so much of the things he himself had never dared to say.

Then Jack was kissing Rose, then him, and before he could memorize the taste that was _Jack_, he was talking.

"I wish I'd never met you, Doctor. I was much better off as a coward."

And then he was gone, and the words "See you in hell," haunted the room.

-

2.

He'd heard Martha's voice, almost frantic. "You've got a hand? A hand in a jar? A hand, in a jar, in your bag!"

Then the words hit him, and he turned to Jack. "Bu-that-that-that's _my_ hand!"

He couldn't believe that Jack had actually taken the time to _find_ the hand, then keep it, then make it into what he now referred to as the 'Doctor Detector'.

The Doctor saw the careful way that Jack handled the jar, and saw the almost unnoticeable flashes of something akin to shame in Jack's mind.

He'd wanted to tell Jack it was alright, he wasn't mad, he was proud, he was _honoured_, and if he wanted to, he could gladly have the new hand, and everything attached...

but then the moment was over, Martha started asking questions, he was introduced to Chantho, and it all faded to the background.

-

3.

"Do you think she can change me back?"

The Doctor's hearts ached for him, but he explained. And then, even though the answer might as well kill him, he just had to know,

"Do you want to die?"

"I thought I did..." He wanted to cry.

"..but this lot, you see them out there, surviving..." He wanted to tell him he knew, it was the same for him, that's why he kept going.

"...and that's fantastic."

and now he just wanted to cry again. The old me would never think like that, he thought as he watched Jack die, and subsequently resurrect.

But then again, it was the old me that Jack first fell in love with, that actually had had a chance of being with him, that could have done something about it, before it was too late.

As he stood there, bathed in the red light, he grieved for Jack, his former self, and the coward of a man he had become.

-

4.

He'd tried to explain about the Tardis keys, and how he'd rigged them to protect both Jack and Martha.

"...I know what it's like! It's like when you fancies someone, and they don't even know you exist!"

He'd heard the whispered comment from Jack to Martha afterwards,

"You too, huh?"

and it nearly broke his hearts in half. Why wasn't he, a Time Lord, the Oncoming Storm, brave enough to tell Jack, a man he knew loved him dearly, that he was loved in return?

-

5.

"...the odd gray hair, ya know? What happens if I live for a million years?"

and he wants to answer, wants to give Jack what he seeks, reassurance, say Jack won't be alone if he'd stay with him, but he honestly doesn't know what will happen. And Jack is always going to be alone for eventually, even Time Lords die, but immortals don't.

"Okay, vanity, sorry..." and he shrugs it off.

-

The Doctor listens to him chat, and can't help smiling. It's so _Jack_, and he's longed to just chat with him, listen to his voice. But before he knows it, it's over.

"..they called me. Huh. I'll see you."

and he bounced off. Actually _bounced_.

My dear, dear Captain.

-

-

-

_love it? hate it?  
__  
__want to squeeze it, hug it, kiss it, promise to love and cherish it for the rest of your life?  
__want to set fire to it and stomp on it, screaming 'die, die!' until it crumbles and turns into dust? _

_let me know, i'll see what can be arranged_


End file.
